


Perfect Little Soldier

by IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels



Series: A Gentle Release [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Can be read as a lost tuesday in mystery spot, Can somewhat be compliant to soulless sam, Caring Sam, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean needs to know he can do something right, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Feels, Hurt Dean Winchester, Kink Negotiation, Masochism, Masochist Dean, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Poor negotiating, Protective Sam, Safewords, Sam Takes Care Of Dean, Sam safewords, Soulless Sam Winchester, lots of feels, nonsexual kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels/pseuds/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels
Summary: Sam isn't dropping what happened two weeks ago. Dean needs to know he can do something right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You may need to read the first in my series to completely understand this piece but it's hardly necessary. This can be compliant with Mystery Spot as a lost Tuesday. A bit of soulless!Sam if you squint.

"So no holding you down with stuff. Good. Means we don't have to buy any equipment." Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"Clearly." Dean snarked, exasperated with the mere notion.

"I'm just making sure. I want to make this the best it can be for you when we do this." Sam reasoned.

"Yeah, I noticed you're a bit quick to the draw on that one." 

New hotel, but no way in hell is Sam dropping the old story. Since the night two weeks ago he hasn't stopped bringing up and researching the thing that came up. God this was embarrassing. 

'My kid brother is trying to be a whips and chains doctor Phil.' Dean grimanced.

"I just think is a good thing. You don't see yourself, you can't. When that feeling hits you, it's like you don't know what to do with yourself or about it and it makes you pissy and weird." Sam stuttered out, motioning vividly with his hands.

"Well, I guess I should be glad then." Dean shrugged on his jacket. "Breakfast?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure." 

The diner was small, cozy, and calm. They slid into a booth, Dean picked up his menu but faltered when he saw Sam's face.

"What now?" Dean was getting sick of it.

"What about a flogger?"

"No way in hell, Sam." Dean growled under his breath. 

"Okay, fair. But let me know if there's anything you want to try." He was reluctant to drop the subject. He knew how his brother was.

Dean nodded in a classic "Yeah, yeah" fashion as he skimmed the menu.

"Pinwheel?" 

Dean threw down his menu with an over enthusiastic "No! I don't even want to know what that is!" 

He noticed the rest of the diner looking at him as he gave a strong glare to his brother. "This funny to you, Sam? How do you even know what all this shit is?" 

"Research, and plenty of it. Did you know there's a BDSM club locally?" Sam shrugged.

Dean took a breath and several moments to not reach over and confiscate the newly purchased laptop, smack Sam, and crush the device. "No. I didn't need to-" a thought occurred as he lowered his voice "like whips and chains?" 

"If that's what you're into, yup." Sam shrugged.

"No, it's not. But damn that sounds dangerous." Dean frowned.

"I guess they know what they're doing. And they have people who make sure everyone's alright." Sam reasoned. 

"You researched that too?" Dean groaned.

"Why not? I got curious." 

Dean reached over to the laptop, snagging it out of Sam's reach. "Confiscated." 

"Dean, you-" Sam started.

"Sam, we aren't the freaky girls you don't bring home to mother!" Dean grit out through clenched teeth. 

"I know I'm not but I can't speak for someone else." Sam hummed, skimming his menu.

Dean's face would be notorious for Bitch Faces Throughout History, if such a thing existed. 

"Look, I'm just going to keep throwing stuff out there until you give me a hit." Sam tried to reason.

"Oh I'll give you a hit alright." Dean muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes and moved closer to explain. "What I'm trying to say is, tell me what you like and I'll make it work. I'm just asking for guidelines." 

Dean resolutely decided to ignore Sam. Thankfully the waitress came over to take their orders.

"A special, and coffee please." Dean smiled at the waitress.

"Shortstack, thanks." Sam dismissed her for the topic at hand.

When she went back to the bar Sam spoke again. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"How about drop the subject." Dean put his foot down.

Sam decided to back off for now, in favor of eating in peace and letting Dean think. He knew his brother well enough to know Dean definitely would, whether he liked it or not. He'd planted the seed of inquiry, and all he'd have to do was be patient.

They didn't speak the rest of the time they spent at the diner. Sam didn't mind the silence if it meant he was forcing Dean to think. 

They'd gotten into Baby and driven all the way back to the motel before Dean said a word. Sam noticed how pensive the older man looked when he sat on his bed.

"I don't know about all this flogger-pinwheel stuff." He was staring at his hands or the carpet beneath them when Sam looked up from his research. 

"I just," He paused, blushing and beginning to tense up from the effort of getting it out. "I just know that what we did, that was good. It was weird, but… It felt good, like I wasn't suffocating for a few hours." 

Sam said nothing as he listened intently. Dean bringing it up himself was a milestone as it is, best not to interrupt it by rushing him along. 

"You keep asking me about guidelines, and what I like, and I-I," Dean let out a breath as he tried to figure out what was next. "Sammy, I don't know."

Dean tried to keep himself together but all at once it was resurfacing, that feeling at the bar with that D-bag. That itch that's under his skin, making his nerves light with the fire of anxious energy.

"It's fine. You're fine. I never meant to sound like I wanted to know everything at once. We'll figure it out. We always do, this isn't any different." Sam tried to sound reassuring, given he felt better about this than anything else they do.

And for that, he had to get it right. Alcohol and self destructive behavior can only help Dean so much, if at all. He isn't sure of what exactly they're doing but he doesn't want to ruin something he'd seen make a big change in his brother for the best.

He moved to Dean's bed, a hand on his arm. "Do you need help?" 

Dean made a face Sam could only call upset as he just sat there. It was clear he needed something but probably didn't know what to ask for or how to explain it. Sam waited, careful and deliberate.

Dean sat there as he tried to find the words but none would come. He sighed deeply through his nose as he took off his jacket and his first layer of plaid. The shirt underneath got its sleeves shoved up to Dean's shoulders as he looked at Sam pleadingly.

Sam gave Dean a look, unsure of whether to ask or not what he needed him to do. Where was obvious, but Dean didn't have any bruises that Sam could see right now, so it was a bit confusing. So with that Sam nearly opened his mouth when Dean spoke.

"You wanna know what I like. Let's experiment."

"What first?" Sam asked. 

"I'm sure you're a big boy, Sammy. Just get to work and I'll tell you if I dont like something, alright?"

Sam gave a little sigh as he thought about this. "First, I'm telling you what I'm not gonna do."

Dean nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Sounds good." 

"I'm not gonna burn you. Or cut you. Or some of the even crazier kink stuff like shocking or what you said no to in the diner. Well, I wouldn't if we had stuff like that." 

Dean nodded.

Sam got an idea. "Stand up." 

Dean didn't question it, but did seem a little curious. 

Sam looked at him and held Dean's arms up at shoulder height, so he made a T shape with his body. "Hold your arms like that until I say. If you can't hold them up anymore, or you want to stop, use a code word, alright?"

Dean still couldn't make eye contact for the life of him but nodded again, the thick blush spreading to his arms and chest.

"Good. Tell me which one you'll use, alright?" Sam prompted. 

"Poughkeepsie." Dean mumbled. 

"Alright, good choice." Sam hummed.

Dean didn't reply. He just seemed focused on keeping position instead.

Sam considered staring the whole time, but figured Dean would be more at ease if he did something. So he started to do research on this sort of thing, predictably. Every paragraph he'd look up to check on Dean, giving him a good once over at his progress. 

After a about two minutes, Sam knew Dean's arms were burning to high hell. The look on his face wasn't one that was entirely unpleasant though. Dean seemed to be in thought as he served out what he no doubt thought of as a guilty pleasure or a punishment. 

It was his "I'm a good soldier" face he'd give John. Ramrod straight posture and stoic, pensive features with just a hint of hope for praise. Sam ached at that. 

"You're doing good, Dean. Really good." Sam called to him.

Dean let out a low "mm" as he dared to risk a glance at Sam. He meant it if his face was anything to go by, and that's all Dean needed. His resolve had started to waver and he'd considered using the word. Hearing that praise was enough to make him toss the thought out of his mind.

He didn't care that it hurt. He didn't care that he could feel his face heat with the exertion, or his arms tingle, burn, and lose sensation at all once. He wanted to do something right for a change, and if that was wrong he couldn't bring himself to give a shit.

Sam watched, fascinated as the simple praise made Dean lift his chin a bit and stand taller, his arms no longer slowly lilting. Poor Dean. He didn't even seem to notice he'd done it. 

In three more minutes or if Dean safeworded out, he'd bring his brother to the bed. Then he'd pinch and scratch at his sore arms, maybe lightly press into the shoulders that would no doubt scream in agony. He almost snorts at the irony of himself pretending to be every inch of the sadist he's not. 

The remaining minutes dragged on. Dean was shaking like a leaf for the last thirty seconds, breathing heavily and starting to sweat. It was so much. It wasn't all bad, but God, this was nothing like the last time. It was intense and awful but not at the same time. Dean frowned at his thoughts as they spiraled out of coherency. 

"Stop. Come here, I'm proud of you." Sam's voice was like the coming of Christ as Dean dropped his arms and went to him in two large strides.

His shoulders felt like creaky floorboards and his arms were just a mumbled mess of pain and numbness and the soothing feeling of stretching for hours. It made no sense but that's okay because he did good and Sammy would make it make sense for him. He was pushed to lie on the bed by his brother's large hands as he let the feeling of being dazed rush over him.

Dean looked wrecked. Hardly any green in his eyes and an expression of blatant and open relief and mild disorientation on his face. Sam put him in his bed, careful not to hurt him any more than necessary. 

"Are you alright now, or do we need to keep going?" Sam tried. 

A completely uncoordinated hand grabbed his own and pulled it near an undeniably sore as hell shoulder. Sam pressed a thumb into the flesh just above Dean's arm pit and received a shuddering grunt for his troubles. The sound worried Sam as he pulled his hand away.

"You've had enough." He said.

Dean almost looked betrayed as he tried to find words to reassure him, but Sam would have none of it.

"Im proud of you, keeping your arms up so long and all. But you need to rest. So I'm calling Poughkeepsie." He watched Dean settle into the bed as if he were trying to become one with it.

"You did good, Dean." Sam smiled a bit as he crawled into the neighboring bed. "I'll be here if you need me."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Comment if you did.


End file.
